


Pool

by battle_cat



Series: Together [15]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: “We should take a bath,” she says, even though neither of them is remotely dirty enough to justify one.“Mm, clearly,” he says. “There’s a pool.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on YoukaiYume's [smutty art](http://youkaiyume.tumblr.com/post/157083698553/warning-nsfw-this-was-a-smut-prompt-for).

It’s a corridor he’s never been in before. He thinks they’re near the Vault, maybe a level above it, but he’s never had cause to wander down this particular branch of tunnels. Keeping track of the ones he uses on a regular basis is tricky enough.

He follows Furiosa to a door of beaten sheet metal. It’s slightly ajar and he can see light on the other side. She looks over her shoulder as she pushes it open, nodding for him to follow her inside with a tiny smile on her face.

He steps into a cavernous room, high-ceilinged and filled with a dazzling amount of light. The Citadel’s hallways are dark even in midday, lit by torches and the occasional beam of daylight from an airshaft. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust.

They’re in a room that looks a bit like the Vault: rougher in shape, and smaller, without the sleeping room off to the side or any of the Vault’s luxuries, but with the same curved wall of sweeping glass. So much glass—it was rare these days to find enough for a front windshield, let alone the dozens of panels arcing up to the ceiling.

There’s a pool like the Vault’s, too, rougher-hewn but deeper. The door is solid, but not something torn from a bank vault, and he can’t help noticing that this one locks from the inside.

He has only been in the room where Joe kept his wives a handful of times. Furiosa doesn’t like going in there, much as she tries to hide her discomfort, even though the locking mechanism of the enormous door has been disabled now so it can be swung open by anyone inside. The other former wives don’t seem inclined to spend much time there either, aside from tending to the seedlings and delicate herbs that now occupy the sun-warmed stone along the window. There’s a locked room at the top of the Vault’s curving flight of stairs that no one goes into, ever.

But no such ghosts seem to haunt this room. Furiosa looks relaxed now, the line of her shoulders easy, a trace of a devilish smile on her lips.

“He built it for his sons,” she explains. “Wouldn’t want _women_ to have nicer housing than his heirs,” she quips.

“Gonna be a public bath soon. Pipeworkers just filled up the pool to make sure nothing leaks.” She’s still standing near the door, and she nudges it closed. “Not quite public yet,” she says with a raised eyebrow. She pulls a lever and the door’s heavy deadbolt slides into place. She’s grinning now.

She crosses to him, her eyes shining, and he’s vaguely aware that he must be smiling too. “We should take a bath,” she says, even though neither of them is remotely dirty enough to justify one.

“Mm, clearly,” he says. “There’s a pool.”

She pushes his jacket off his shoulders, unbuckles her arm and unlaces the leather underneath while still keeping her dazzling green eyes fixed on his face the whole time. She lays her prosthetic and body armor carefully on his jacket.

It always changes the way she stands, when she removes the belts and leather from her midriff and the metal weight from her shoulder. She is never exactly soft but she is looser, less rigid somehow with nothing but her thin shirt between her skin and his hands on her waist.

She steps close to him, her half-arm draped casually around his neck. He backs them up a few steps, into the full, bright sunlight coming in through the glass dome before he slides his hands under her shirt and peels it off her. He pauses to kiss her, letting his hands roam over the expanse of her skin, her tanned arms and chest and the sensitive skin of her breasts and stomach, pale between old scars. He loves feeling her body warm up under his touch, feeling her nipples harden and her breathing change. He wonders if she’s wet yet. His hands find her belt and he feels her breath catch a little when he pushes her pants down to her knees.

“Someone might see,” she murmurs, but in a way that does not seem particularly disturbed by the prospect.

The Vault’s glass dome faces outward toward the Wasteland, but this room is on the other side of the tower, facing the Citadel’s central spire. Over her shoulder he can see the windmills on the garden terraces spinning.

“Mm. You’d need binoculars.” He slides a hand down to cup her buttock.

“Or a sniper scope.” And that actually gives him a split second of pause, because if Janey or Eves happens to be on sentry duty on the opposite tower he will never hear the end of it, but…he decides it’s an acceptable risk.

He slides a hand between her legs, feeling the heat from her skin and yes, a slick of wetness when he brushes his fingers against her. She sighs.

“Let’s get in the water.” She nods her head toward the pool.

They make short work of their remaining clothes and then he’s sliding into the sun-warmed water. The pool is deep enough for the water to reach his ribcage; an obscene amount of water all in one place, and not even for drinking. He bathes often enough when he’s at the Citadel, but the feeling of being surrounded by water is still rare enough to be savored.

Furiosa slips into the pool, ducking beneath the water for a moment and coming up smiling, her skin glistening with moisture. He glides over to her, leans in to lick up a water droplet making its way down her neck. She makes a noise of encouragement and so he licks at her collarbone, her breast, sucking and teasing a nipple with his tongue until she can’t hold back a little moan.

His hand drifts down and finds the hot line of her pussy, stroking and teasing while he kisses her neck. Her legs part, swing around his, until she’s almost sitting in his lap, their bodies held up by the water. If he bends his knees only their shoulders are above the water.

When his fingers rub over her clit she grabs a handful of his wet hair, floating herself closer to him and biting his lips in a fierce kiss. He’s had enough of teasing her, works at her clit with the firm, steady pressure he knows she likes. Her moans escape into his mouth intertwined with kisses, and when he can tell from their pitch that she’s about to come, he pulls back so he can watch her, eyes fluttered closed and cheeks flushed, abandoned and trusting. She is heart-stoppingly beautiful.

He gives her a moment to recover, her forehead pressed against his. He tries to ignore how hard his cock has gotten—not helped at all by the way her heavy breathing makes her breasts slide in and out of the water ever so slightly.

“Wanna fuck you now,” she mumbles after a handful of breaths, her eyes still closed.

They both hop up to sit on the rough stone lip of the pool, and she moves to swing her leg over his hips, straddling him. “Mm-mm,” he murmurs, scooting back a little further onto the stone. “With your back to me.”

She seems to accept each new position like a challenge, and they haven’t tried this exact variation yet. She wiggles onto his lap, rivulets of water running down the muscles in her back, settling a little more on one of his thighs than the other so she can hook an arm around his shoulders.

It takes some fidgeting to get them lined up properly, both of them slippery and the position giving her almost no leverage, but it’s worth it for the overwhelmed _Ohh_ that comes out of her when he finally slides into her. He hooks a hand under one knee and hitches her leg up, feels her hand clutch at his hair again. Like this she is spread open and vulnerable, trusting him to hold her and fuck her, her body warm and solid and relaxed against his.

He can’t move much in this position, just a subtle rock of his hips, but he doesn’t need to. At this angle the slightest movement makes her moan, a repeating chorus of _Oh oh oh oh_ as he fucks shallowly into her. She plants kisses everywhere she can reach: his cheek and his jawline and one on his neck that he’s sure is going to leave a mark, and then he sneaks the hand that’s not wrapped around her leg down to rub at her clit again and she wails, unable to do much more than hang on to him as he works at her. She comes with a long spasm around his dick and a sound that’s almost a sob, and that sends him over the edge too, twitching into her while she’s still raw and shaking.

For a moment she lies boneless against him, her face tucked against his neck. When he lowers her leg down his cock slides out of her. He wraps an arm around her ribcage, feeling nothing but woozy bliss and the rise and fall of their breathing in tandem.

Eventually his legs start to go numb from her weight on top of him and he gives her a gentle nudge. She eases off his lap and flops down on the stone floor next to the pool, stretched out with an arm behind her head and her feet trailing in the water, a lazy smile on her face. She looks gorgeous and relaxed in the warm sun, and he’s suddenly struck by a memory, an old, old memory of a beach and a blanket and another time—

That might as well be someone else’s life. The ocean has long since retreated from that shore and now sand and wind and sun are things that will scour and kill, and the person he was then seems unrecognizable to him now.

“Hey.” She must notice something on his face, because she leans over and touches his thigh. He hums, reassuring, and turns on his side to stretch out next to her. She smiles at him, unguarded and fond. She is lovely and alive and present, and she doesn’t deserve any of her own ghosts, let alone any of his.

He leans in to kiss her gently.

“Didn’t do much washing,” she mumbles.

He nods toward the pool. “Still got time.”


End file.
